


A Leap of Faith

by TheodoreHawkwood



Series: The Key West Universe [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman Begins (2005), Dark Knight (2008), Jackie Chan Adventures
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4037086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheodoreHawkwood/pseuds/TheodoreHawkwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assistant District Attorney Rachel Dawes was murdered during the movie 'The Dark Knight', but what if that was not the end of the story for her? What if she were brought back to life by a sinister experiment by Valmont some two months after her death? </p><p>Three years after the series finale of the Jackie Chan Adventures the J-Team and Section 13 must deal with a newly resurrected Dark Hand and the return of an old enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Leap of Faith

**Author's Note:**

> A plot bunny struck me the other day and I wondered what a crossover of The Dark Knight and the Jackie Chan Adventures series would look like.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters of Capitaine Arnot D’Artagnan, Caporal Andre Brossard, and Sergent Kristophe Delage are my creation.
> 
> Of note, the word Dai Uy is Vietnamese for 'captain'.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel awakens as a result of an illegal experiment by Valmont. Meanwhile in the past, G.C.M.A. officer Arnot D'Artagnan is swept down the stream of time after taking a literal leap of faith.

**Yucatan Peninsula**  
**Caribbean Coast of Mexico**  
**1 September 2008**

The first thing Rachel Dawes saw when her eyes opened was a circle of bright light. Blinking didn’t dim the light’s intensity. The first thing she said was more reflexive than anything else. She didn’t know why, but it seemed urgent, like it just _**had**_ to be said.

“Harvey, somewhere we’ll be together again.”

“Somehow I doubt that, Ms. Dawes,” a calm and cool voice replied. _Who is that?_

“Alfred?” Rachel said, blinking her eyes rapidly. _Cold. My back feels so cold…_

“I’m sorry,” the English accented voice sounded, “But I’m afraid none of us answers to the name Alfred.”

Under the thin sheet covering her body Rachel could feel cold metal underneath her bare backside.

“Wh-where am I?” Rachel asked.

“A laboratory, Ms. Dawes,” the Englishman said.

“A what?” Rachel said, sitting up, forgetting that she was naked underneath the sheet. And that the sheet slid nearly halfway down her body before she realized that fact.

As soon as she sat up she saw four men in the room. One was a tall man with blue eyes and long, snow white hair tied up in a ponytail, wearing a green suit with a black shirt and orange tie. The one standing to his right was a lean Asian man wearing reflective orange sunglasses with black frames with a black leather jacket, t-shirt, and jeans. A third fellow with spiky black hair with a bandage over the bridge of his nose, and a slightly rumpled black suit with a white shirt and a red tie. And standing closest to her was a redhaired fellow with long sideburns wearing a ‘70s white disco suit, pink long-sleeved collared shirt and blue-black shoes.

 _I’m half naked in front of four men!_ Rachel thought, hurriedly grabbing the thin sheet and holding it up to her chest, blushing slightly.

“No need for modesty, Ms. Dawes,” the man with the green suit replied.

“Yeah,” the redhaired fellow added, “It’s not like we didn’t get a good eyeful.”

Rachel blushed an even deeper shade of red before she managed to regain some sort of mental footing.

“Who are you?” Rachel asked.

The Englishman leaned slightly on his cane, “My name is Valmont. And these three gentlemen here are my associates.”

He introduced the Asian in the black leather jacket, the man in the suit, and the disco suited fellow in turn, “Chow. Finn. Ratso.”

Shortly after she registered the names of the three ‘associates’ it all came back to her. Being tied to a chair in a room full of barrels of gasoline. A time bomb ticking down. A radio being the only link between her and Harvey.

_“I don’t want to live without you. Because I do have an answer, and my answer is yes…” She shouted, pulling fruitlessly at the ropes._

_She could hear Harvey’s voice tinny over the radio’s speaker, “NO! Not me...Why did you come for **me!?** ”_

_A brief pause as she heard the sound of struggling, and Harvey’s last shout, “RACHEL!!!”_

_Blinking her eyes, a moment of calm, “Harvey, it’s okay. It’s alright. Listen.”_

_Then the flash. The heat and fire. The shockwave. The thing that a detached and more logical part of Rachel’s mind told her was killing her in her last moments…_

“Remembering what happened, are we?” Valmont said with a wry smile, “And wondering how you’re lying here, stark naked on a laboratory table no doubt?”

He stepped closer to her lightly pushing the redhaired man to one side. “After all you do remember a tremendous explosion, don’t you? And the likelihood that you should be dead?”

Rachel nodded and the Englishman smiled. At that smile she felt her blood turn to ice. _He’s looking at me like a hawk about to swoop down on a rabbit._

“Simply put, Ms. Dawes, the explosion _did_ kill you,” Valmont began.

“What? Then how…? That’s impossible,” Rachel replied, stammering. Trying to process what she just heard. But then again her last memory before ‘waking up’ was a fiery inferno. So Valmont _wasn’t_ lying.

“Well, in short let us say a little magic and a little science and leave it at that, shall we?” Valmont replied.

She felt the white hot flash, fire all over her body. Closing her eyes and curling up on her side as she relived her last moment.

“I see your memories of your last moment are certainly intact,” Valmont replied, “I would think that reliving the memories of your death would be most vivid. I do think that it’ll pass momentarily.”

Valmont was right, Rachel felt that burning sensation going away but still was breathing hard for the next few minutes.

Valmont patiently waited till she regained her faculties and with that same damnable smile continued, “I suppose you have questions.”

“Well...yes,” Rachel replied, “First how did you do it? I died in an explosion…”

“Your body wasn’t quite that destroyed, honestly,” Valmont replied, “Part of your left arm was destroyed, a large piece of your thigh, maybe your left ear. Of course your skin was charred. But it was nothing that I wasn’t able to take care of thanks to a blend of science and a little thing known as magic.”

 _Magic? That’s impossible._ Rachel thought.

“And I’ve done the impossible,” Valmont said, “I have brought the dead…”

He pointed dramatically at her before continuing, “...back to the land of the living. It was a process that took some time, I admit, but it worked.”

Rachel could only stare, almost blankly at Valmont. _This is something out of a science fiction movie or some cheap horror film...but yet I’m here._

Then she felt a rush of joy running through her. _I can see everyone again. Mom, Alfred, Bruce, Harvey…_

And almost as swiftly as the rush of joy came it receded. I can’t go back. I’ve been gone for months, if Valmont is telling the truth. As far as they know I’m dead. I can’t just come back as if nothing happened.

Valmont was speaking some more, but none of it registered. With a sigh he said, “Miss Dawes, are you even paying attention? Of course you aren’t…”

He leered as he raised one hand and looked at his fingernails, before coolly replying, “I suppose you want to know what’s going to become of you?”

Rachel nodded.

“Well it's fairly obvious, you can’t go back to Gotham,” Valmont replied, “You are going to stay here. After all you are the first person to ever be resurrected from the dead. We have a series of tests to run, et cetera.”

“Tests? Are you mad?” Rachel asked, astounded.

“I assure you we are quite sane,” Valmont replied.

“But…” Rachel began, before Valmont cut her off.

“I’m afraid, Ms. Dawes, we must bid you goodnight,” Valmont replied, “But not before we see to your sleeping arrangements.”

His voice took a mocking tone as he indicated a nearby table where a white hospital gown was folded up, “Your wardrobe, milady. Unless, of course, you’d rather sleep in the nude.”

With as much dignity as she could muster Rachel wrapped the thin sheet that had been covering her from her collarbone down to her toes around herself and walked towards the table, picking up the hospital gown.

 _I’m going to have to take off the sheet to put on the gown and any way I turn these creeps are going to get an eyeful._ Rachel thought.

Letting the sheet drop she reached over to grab the hospital gown and pulled it on. Tugging at the seams she noticed it stopped just slightly above the point of decency when standing up.

“It appears that one size fits all applies to your garments for the foreseeable future, Ms. Dawes,” Valmont said, “Now to your sleeping quarters.”

“Put this on,” Finn said, handing Rachel a black sleeping blindfold.

Seeing no choice, Rachel complied, and felt herself being led out of the chamber she had awakened in. She could feel what felt like cold stone beneath her feet. She could feel that the thin fabric of the hospital gown did nothing to prevent the chill she felt.

Going down a flight of stairs, around several turns, another flight of stairs, and up a third flight. If they were trying to disorient her they were doing a good job of it. The blindfold was pulled away.

Under harsh electrical lights she could see a small room with a bed and a small bathroom set up. A more academic part of her mind took in the juxtaposition of modern, if sterile looking furniture and bathroom furnishings and stone ruins before Finn shoved her into the room and closed a heavy wooden door behind her.

The sound of a lock being bolted could be heard and the light went out.

“Have a pleasant night’s sleep, Ms. Dawes,” Valmont said, “We shall talk again in the morning…”

Though the darkness came, sleep was the last thing on Rachel’s mind…

* * *

 **Lao Cai Province**  
**North Vietnam**  
**7 May 1956**

“You bastards! You left us here to die! The least you could have done is parachute us some munitions so that we can die fighting as men!” _Caporal_ Gilbert Brossard shouted over the radio handset.

The sounds of the aircraft faded into the distance as _Capitaine_ Arnot D’Artagnan looked away. Mentally he pictured the aircraft fading into an ever smaller spec on the horizon as its twin engines droned on.

“Any word?” Arnot asked.

“ _Non mon capitaine!_ ” Brossard said angrily.

“Right, let’s get out of here,” Arnot replied, “The Viet Minh likely got that transmission too.”

Two years had passed since Dien Bien Phu had fallen.  Two years of hiding in the jungle with Viet Minh hunter-killer teams closing in. Two years of fading radios and dwindling ammunition stocks. Two years since deciding to remain with the T’ai partisans rather than abandoning them to their fate.

Gilbert nodded and hefted his radio and M1 carbine as the small force of fifteen men moved away from the clearing back into the jungle. Shortly after Gilbert and two of the T’ai had begun to move Arnot followed, hefting his own MAT-49 submachine gun. He turned around to see five more of the partisans to bring up the middle of their small column. And a few moments later Sergent Andre Delage took his own M1 carbine in his large hands as he led the trail party.

 _Fifteen men,_ Arnot thought to himself, _all that remain of a force of nearly five hundred. If only we at least had some ammunition parachuted to us, more of us would remain alive._

He made a glance at his compass as he forced any more musing from his mind. Three French soldiers and twelve T’ai guerillas against the 308th Viet Minh Division were hardly fair odds.

He could hear Delage running up behind him, “We need water.”

“We can’t circle back to the village,” Arnot said, “The Viet Minh might’ve poisoned the well.”

“After the bastards killed every living thing in the village,” Andre spat.

Arnot thought briefly about stopping the patrol for a moment. _Bad idea, I can still see the smoke if I turn around._

The only reason he’d even stopped earlier was to try and alert that aircraft, but that was a blind alley. _Let’s hope that doesn’t kill us all._

“Is there any other water source here?” Arnot whispered to the T’ai in front of him.

“No, _Dai Uy_ , only the village and the river,” the man said.

 _If I were the Viet Minh I know where I’d be lurking,_ Arnot thought. _Some decision. A sure death by thirst or a possible by ambush._

Arnot held up his left hand, his right still gripping his submachine gun’s pistol grip. The patrol stopped. With his free hand he gestured in the direction of the river. His eyes alternated between looking at his compass on occasion and around at the jungle and at the rest of the patrol.

A vicious boom and the next thing Arnot saw was the second man in line dead from the grenade shrapnel and Brossard lying on his side, his right arm bleeding.

As his hearing returned after the blast Arnot could hear Gilbert screaming in agony. The T’ai directly to his front had dropped to one knee and fired one of the four cartridges he had left in his weapon before he grabbed Gilbert by one of his webbing straps and dragged the screaming man along the ground.

 _This is it!_ Arnot thought as he dived behind a log and began to fire his own weapon in short bursts.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gilbert’s rescuer setting up his carbine on top of the log and prop him up behind the weapon.

Gilbert was doing his best to return fire, despite his wound.

“Alright!” Arnot shouted over the din of whistles and gunshots, “We make our stand here. Let’s take as many of these bastards with us as we can!”

As he spoke yet another partisan was cut down in a hail of bullets. Where his men were having to take only sure shots the Viet Minh were free to unleash volleys of hot lead at the last survivors of G.C.M.A. _Commando D’Artagnan_.

He saw Andre shooting before triumphantly raising a fist and bellowing. Another gunshot rang out and Gilbert pitched backward with a hole blown through his forehead. Arnot used his remaining rounds in his submachine gun to ensure Gilbert’s killer shared a similar fate.

Drawing his MAS 50 pistol, letting the submachine gun hang from its sling around his shoulder as what was left of his command was fighting at close quarters. He saw Andre brain a Viet Minh with the stock of his carbine before snapping off his last round at another.

He shot another Viet Minh that had tried to sneak up on Andre. However saving his old friend’s life proved a moot point as two more Viet Minh emptied their own submachine guns into Andre.

“ _Bâtards!_ ” Arnot roared and let both Viet Minh have a round apiece from his pistol.

All around him men were fighting at close quarters with rifle butts, fists, and knives.

A battle cry as a Viet Minh charged him, bayonet extended. Shooting two more rounds into the man. Pulling his last grenade and hurling it at another group of Viet Minh that were charging into the collapsing perimeter.

 _Three more rounds for them, and the last for me!_ Arnot thought. _I’m not letting them take me alive, like they did to Jacques._

He felt an impact collide with his right leg, dropping to one knee as a T’ai and a Viet Minh rolled around on the ground. He put his pistol to the Viet Minh’s head and squeezed the trigger.

The T’ai managed to grab his rifle and followed Arnot as they ran headlong towards the river. _I’ll be damned if I let them parade my corpse through the nearest town._

Two more rounds fired. The T’ai dropped to a knee to fire his last round only to be ventilated by another volley of shots.

Running towards the cliff at the edge of the river. Putting the pistol to his head. Squeezing the trigger.

Click!

 _For the love of God! Of all the times for a round not to fire!_ Arnot thought. The sounds of screams and single shots echoed nearby as the Viet Minh finished off any wounded they encountered.

With a deep breath Arnot flung himself off the cliff and into the river. He just barely heard the splash as the cold water enveloped him. He could see the trails as bullets cut their way into the water.

Feeling himself sinking, tumbling end over end, as his vision blurred and darkness claimed him. His last thoughts were of his unit. _They. Deserved. Better._

* * *

**Yucatan Peninsula**  
**Caribbean Coast of Mexico**  
**1 September 2008**

Rachel had spent what felt like hours searching for any possible way out of the cell. And by pure dumb luck it seemed like she had found one. Standing on top of the commode on the tip of her toes she had managed to slide a tile in the ceiling up and away.

She hoped she hadn’t awakened Finn, who was currently snoring loudly outside of her cell door. She paused for a few moments before gripping the edge of the opening she had found in the ceiling. Pulling herself up as she jumped up from the commode she found herself in a crawlspace of some kind.

Adrenaline gave Rachel’s arms and legs wings as she crawled through the dusty confines, sneezing all the while. It was as she groped around in the dusty dark that she literally ran into a wall.

 _Dead end_. Rachel thought, biting back a curse and rubbing the area just slightly above her hairline where she’d bumped into the wall. She looked down and noticed a chute, like some sort of drainage chute.

 _You’ve got to be kidding me._ Rachel thought. Pinching her nose and closing her eyes she slid feet first down the chute.

* * *

 ****The dark veil had passed over his eyes as Arnot came to. The first thing he was aware of was there wasn’t any more shooting. They must think I’m dead.

He swam to shore, staggering onto the bank. And then he realized he didn’t recognize a damned thing. For one the stone ruins were nowhere on any map currently in his possession. Nor did he remember there being a generator running anywhere near where he was.

 _Who knows who these people might be. It might be best to stay out of sight for the time being.._.Arnot thought, _For all I know that could be a Viet Minh base camp_.

Still, he shot an azimuth off of his compass and walked towards the ruins. As he did so he tucked his now useless pistol on its lanyard back into his holster. _Best stay out of sight until I know what I’m dealing with…_

The last thing he expected to encounter was the woman in the hospital gown...

* * *

Rachel rubbed her rear end after the chute deposited her rather unceremoniously onto the ground. _That could well have left a bruise._

As she stood, shakily, she felt a bit disoriented but adrenaline once again gave wings to her feet. Finn, Chow, and Ratso were probably alert to the fact that she wasn’t in her cell any more.

The idea of being recaptured by them and becoming an experiment. _Forget it!_

Rachel ran out of the clearing, not caring about the grass and rocks at the soles of her feet, and the tangle of roots as she reached the jungle. Feeling vines scratching against her skin, ripping into the hospital gown’s fabric occasionally.

Pushing a vine out of her way as she jumped over a log, noticing a python slithering off. _Great! Some choice! Dealing with either human predators or animal ones...Looks like my reincarnation is going to be a short one._

WHAM!

Rachel felt herself collide with something solid. “Gah!”

She found herself face to face with a bearded man wearing ragged and muddy green fatigues. She fell over backward, tripping over the log. Scooting backward on her haunches, reaching for something, anything to brain this guy.

 _“Francais? Angleterre? Américain?”_ the man said, confused.

Rachel stopped. Years of working in Gotham City’s District Attorney’s office had taught her how to read people. Her instincts told her the gaunt, haggard fellow, though he had a machine pistol slung round one shoulder, wasn’t a threat.

She could see confusion on his face, as if he hadn’t expected to see her here. In all likelihood he wasn’t one of the group that had held her captive. But still she didn’t totally trust him.

First she had to communicate, or see that she could. Calling back on a few semesters of university French she replied, _“Parlez-vous anglais?”_

“ _Oui._ I mean yes,” the man replied.

“Okay,” Rachel asked, “What’s your name?”

“Arnot,” the man replied, extending a hand to help her up, “And you?”

“Rachel,” she replied as she took the proffered hand and let him help her to her feet.

“Pardon my rudeness, but what are you doing here?” Arnot asked as he indicated the jungle around him as they walked.

“Some really nasty characters kidnapped me,” Rachel replied. _Better leave the whole ‘brought back from the dead thing’ out for now._

She gestured behind her as Arnot held up his compass, looking down the azimuth he had been walking, towards the ruins.

“I was just heading that way,” Arnot replied.

“You might want to change your travel plans,” Rachel quipped, managing some sort of wry grin despite herself.

“Noted,” Arnot replied just as the sound of a twig snapping and footsteps could be heard.

“ _Merde,_ ” Arnot replied, grabbing Rachel’s hand and running.

Pushing through the jungle together, jumping over the odd log or dodging around the occasional tree trunk or rock.

“Can’t you shoot those guys?” Rachel asked.

“I’m out of ammunition!” Arnot replied as they stopped short of an embankment.

“Now what!?” Rachel said, glancing behind her, seeing Finn pushing through the brush behind them, Ratso and Chow not far behind.

“Can you swim?” Arnot replied.

“If I have to and…”

“Good.” Arnot said and shoved Rachel off the embankment and jumped in after her.

Rachel felt the water envelop her as she kicked to the surface. She saw Arnot not too far above her, reaching down and grabbing her hand to pull her to the surface.

Sputtering water out of her mouth as Arnot began to swim. She followed him as best she could.

“Swim with the current,” Arnot said, “We can get further downstream of them and get out.”

It made sense, exhausting themselves and fighting the current was a surefire way to drown. But then the current began to pick up speed, “Arnot, wouldn’t it be a good idea to get out now…”

“I think it’s a bit late for that,” Arnot replied, indicating a waterfall, “Hang on!”

Rachel shut her eyes, gripping Arnot’s hand as tightly as she could as they both tumbled over the falls…

* * *

Jackie Chan glanced over the rail of the boat just in time to see two people go tumbling over the falls.

“There! There!” Jackie called over to Viper who was steering the boat.

“What did you see?” Viper asked.

“Didn’t you see two people go over the falls?” Jackie said.

“No, I didn’t,” Viper replied.

“Neither did I,” Tohru said, turning around from the left side of the boat.

“I’ll turn us around to check it out,” Viper said, “Tohru, Jackie, get ready to haul them aboard if they surface.

Viper gunned the engine, heading towards that deep pool that the waterfall fed into before pulling back the throttles, not wanting to hit either person Jackie had spotted.

“Steer left a little!” Jackie shouted over the engine as he saw the two people floating on the pool’s surface.

 _I hope they’re just unconscious and not dead from the impact,_ Jackie thought.

As they got closer he saw a woman in a torn white hospital gown as Tohru reached down and pulled her on board. Jackie reached over and grabbed the man’s hand, pulling him on board and dragging him alongside the woman.

“She’s breathing, just knocked out,” Tohru said.

“So is he?” Jackie replied.

After he had checked that the man was breathing Jackie’s trained eye noticed he wore ragged olive green fatigues with a small rank insignia and a badge of some sort. His trained eye instantly recognized the man’s clothing as that of a French Army uniform. His submachine gun, pistol belt, canteen and webbing all matched military kit from the French military. But from the 1950s.

The man coughed up water and Jackie rolled him to his side, “It’s okay, we’re here to help you.”

Tohru had reached into a box, grabbing some blankets as the woman also began to cough up water.

“ _Communiste Chinois_?” The man said as his eyes opened.

“What? I…” Jackie said as the man sat up violently and swung a punch that connected with Jackie’s face, just under his right eye.

WHACK!

Tohru struck the man in the back of the head, sending him falling forward, unconscious.

“I think that was a little unnecessary, Tohru.” Jackie began.

“A punch to the face isn’t exactly a way to thank a rescuer,” Tohru replied, “Why was he acting so hostile to you?”

“I think what he said is definitely a clue,” Viper began, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, “He shouted ‘Chinese Communist’ before he hit Jackie.”

“And he’s wearing a uniform that hasn’t been issued by the French Army since the 1950s,” Jackie replied.

“So as strange as it sounds we’re dealing with someone who’s been displaced from time,” Tohru said, “Some form of Chi magic maybe? In any case Uncle might be able to help.”

The woman began to sit up, looking over the scene before her.

“Tohru, get us back to the safe house,” Viper said, heading over to the woman.

“It’s okay,” Viper began, as Jackie draped a blanket across the shivering woman’s shoulders, “We’re not going to hurt you…”

The woman nodded and as she did so Viper couldn’t help but think that she had seen her somewhere before. However that was going to have to wait until they got back to the Section 13 Safe House.

* * *

To Be Continued.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Groupement de Commandos Mixtes Aéroportés (G.C.M.A.), or Composite Airborne Commando Group, were French soldiers who armed and trained T’ai and Meo tribesmen of the deltas and mountains of Vietnam to fight the Viet Minh in 1951-1954. The G.C.M.A. often fought as teams of 2 to 3 Frenchmen among groups of about 400 tribesmen. Often these GCMAs were named after their unit commanders, such as Commando D'Artagnan was named after it's commander.
> 
> They were a dangerous force behind Viet Minh lines throughout their period of time.
> 
> A great tragedy of the Indochina War was the fact that several of them were abandoned because of the speed of the French collapse. An anecdote from that time tells of a pilot hearing the radio call of a French soldier from the jungle below him, cursing the French for not dropping ammunition so they could die like men.
> 
> “This was a fight to the finish, and no quarter was given on either side. One by one, as the last commandos ran out of ammunition, as the last still operating radio sets fell silent, the remnants of the G.C.M.A. died in the hills of North Vietnam.” - from Bernard Fall’s Street Without Joy.


End file.
